


Morning Rituals

by daymarket



Series: Firesverse [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mornings, Tea, Turtleduck(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daymarket/pseuds/daymarket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning tea with Mai and turtleducks. There are few better ways to begin a day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> My brain is stubbornly refusing to sit down and work on the larger stories I've got plotted out. So here, have a little Mai/Zuko fluff.
> 
> Russian translation done by the lovely Fuji can be found [here](http://ficbook.net/readfic/2170066)!

With very few exceptions, he always rises at dawn. He’s hardly alone in this habit in the Fire Nation, but it does generally give him at least an hour or so of peace and quiet before the day begins. Sometimes Mai will join him, more oftentimes not—the sun doesn’t call to her in the same way, and she’s actually a fairly nocturnal person, all things considered. Ursa, on the other hand, will join him when she’s at the palace, but this is all too rare now that she’s left for Republic City. He misses her deeply, but all children must grow up.

Today, he’s just started the fire under the teapot when Mai pads out barefoot into the garden, a robe pulled tight around her shoulders. He moves aside to make space for her in front of the tray, and she sits down cross-legged next to him in the offered space. They don’t say anything to each other, and they don’t have to.

Tea is both art and ritual. As the water comes to a boil, Zuko draws the fire down to embers and lifts the teapot off the fire. The movements of ceremony ground him—place the leaves in the cup, pour the water in after. He watches as tendrils of steam curl up from the surface of the water, and he lets the leaves steep for a moment before he hands one cup to Mai. She accepts it wordlessly, her hands curling around the warmth of the cup as she gives him a nod of thanks. For a long, timeless moment, there’s only the cup of tea in his hands, Mai by his side, and the spreading light across the world.

Small quacks announce that the turtleducks are beginning to wake up. Zuko brings a bag of crumbs each morning for this express purpose, and the turtleducks know to expect their morning meal. They crowd around him, quacking eagerly. The smallest one hops into his palm, and as it’s pecking at the crumbs, he turns and offers it to Mai. She raises an eyebrow at him, but she accepts the small creature nonetheless. It turns in a small circle in her palm in confusion, and she offers it crumbs with her other hand. It takes the food eagerly, and this time, when it’s done, she lets it hop back onto the grass and rejoin its brethren.

“They’re going to get fat,” she remarks. “All that rich bread can’t be good for them.”

“Probably,” he answers, “but it’s a fine Fire Nation tradition to spoil the turtleducks. I think they’ve more or less adapted to it.”

She gives him a slight smile. “I assume that you mean a tradition started by you. Ancient tradition, that.”

He shrugs, unapologetic. It’s hard to imagine Ozai or Azulon feeding the turtleducks, but he knows that Mom did it, and it’s not hard to imagine Uncle Iroh doing it as a child. “The world would be a lot more peaceful if people just sat and fed turtleducks,” he says instead.

“But a lot more dull,” she says lazily.

He shrugs. “Dull isn’t that bad sometimes.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, but she offers no further argument. As she leans into him, he tucks his arm around her, feeling the weight of her through the cover of the robe. Mai wears long layers and sleeves even in the heat of summer, the better to disguise the knives and stilettos she carries. In the sleeping robe, though, he knows that she carries just a handful of knives. It doesn’t make her any less deadly, of course, but it does make her just a little bit more vulnerable.

Her hand reaches up to lightly trace his cheek, and he turns to look at her. “What are you thinking?” she asks, her voice quiet and drowsy.

He looks down at her. “I was thinking…” He hesitates. “It’s nice. The tea, I mean.”

“I’ll grant you that this one is quite decent,” she allows. “And it’s Iroh’s favorite, isn’t it? He might fall apart if you told him otherwise.”

“Uncle has a _lot_ of favorite teas,” he says wryly. “I think he says that just so I’ll feel guilty enough to drink whatever concoction he’s brewed up this time.”

“And evidently, it works,” she says, gesturing with the tray with a languid hand. “Better you than me. Remember that horrible mandrake root he gave us?”

Zuko winces at the memory. “Urgh. Well, they’re not _all_ bad. Besides, it’s relaxing,” he says, only the slightest bit defensive.

She hums softly. “Relaxation. We could use a bit of that, I suppose. Life’s too short to wait for those happy golden years before we _relax_.”

There’s only the faintest hint of sarcasm in her tone, which means that by Mai’s standards that there’s none at all, really. “If the stress or assassins don’t get to us first, we might have a chance,” he says seriously.

“We haven’t had a good assassination attempt in a while,” she muses. “Never thought I’d miss the good old days.”

“Hey, I don’t know about you, but I like it when no one’s trying to kill me,” he says. “Seriously, dull isn’t _that_ bad.”

She turns towards him with an arched brow. “Well, clearly we disagree somewhat on the subject of excitement,” she says. It sounds like a precursor to an argument, but he can read the faint smile in her eyes and hear the teasing lilt to her voice. He bites back a grin in response. “A terrible problem, really. Whatever shall we do.”

He draws her in close. “I guess we’ll have to make our own definition of excitement,” he says. She laughs in response, the sound low and husky.

Her fingers run up the hem of the sleeve and up the shoulder, settling to rest in a warm embrace around his neck. Zuko tightens his arm around her, letting Mai flood his senses—the smell, taste, and touch of her, from the tang of steel and charcoal that’s uniquely hers to her warmth in his arms. She sighs and wraps her arms loosely around his head in turn as they lazily kiss in the light of the rising sun.

Their temperaments have clashed some throughout the years. Well, to be fair, they’ve clashed a _lot_. But even starting from those first tension-filled months, it’s been undeniable that they’ve had a powerful sexual attraction towards each other from the very beginning of their courtship. Over the years, the passion has mellowed into something sweeter, something slower and _much_ more rewarding in its own way.

At length, Zuko breaks away and laughs to see that they’ve accumulated a little audience: while most of the turtleducks are swimming serenely, one or two turtleducklings are watching with their heads tilted. Mai follows his gaze. “Little voyeurs,” she says, her voice dry. “Enjoying the show, small ones?” Almost as if in response, they chirp at her.

“They’re probably hoping for more bread,” Zuko says. He spreads his hands, and one turtleduckling pecks half-heartedly at his empty palm. “Sorry,” he says to them.

“They’ll just have to live with the disappointment,” Mai says, shrugging. “Such is life.”

“It’s not all disappointing,” he protests softly. It’s true that the years haven’t been easy, but he’s here now in this garden, ruling in peacetime over a healing country. His country is safe. His wife is here in his arms. His daughter is carving her own path in the world: a new world, a peaceful one. “It could be a _lot_ worse.”

It’s almost as if Mai’s following the same train of thought. “Mmm.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Fair enough. Have your optimism, then.” She leans into him again, and he treasures the weight of her.

Around them, the palace is stirring to life as more and more people awaken. He can see the servants moving about, quiet and discreet. The servants won’t disturb them here, but the increasing activity is a reminder that the reprieve is over, and that the work of the day is about to begin. He lets out a slow breath. “Time to get up,” he murmurs into her hair.

She sighs. With lazy, languid movements, she stands up and stretches with a groan, arching her back to work the kinks out of her spine. “You know,” she remarks as she straightens, “There _is_ something about this tea ritual of yours that works. Clearly I’ll have to consider it more often.”

He stands up and dusts off his robes. On an impulse, he pulls her close again and brushes a kiss along her temple. “Well, you always know where to find me.”

She smiles at him. In companionable silence, they pack up the tea set together. As they head back inside, he slips a hand in Mai’s. She laces her fingers with his and squeezes lightly, not letting go.


End file.
